Letting Go
by Lexen
Summary: As Hermione grows up, Dr. Granger learns about holding on, letting go, and comes to understand that even magic cannot change the love between a father and a daughter.


**Disclaimer****: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. J.K. Rowling created it all, and no money is being made from this work of fan fiction.**

**AN****: I have no beta, and all mistakes are mine. This is an entry for the "Legendary Gods and Goddesses" competition on HPFC for the "**Izanagi no Mikoto**" category, the "Importance of a Father" challenge, and the "It's All about Family" challenge. This story is written completely from the POV of Hermione's father. Nothing here but bittersweet fluff.**

**Holding On Tight**

"Don't let go, Daddy." Even though she was a newborn, I was sure I could hear my little girl asking me that as I held her in her nursery on her first day home from the hospital. She was perfect, my Hermione. She had come out screaming with a full head of brown hair, and I suspected that her eyes, now infant blue, would be brown once they changed, brown like her mother's. I rocked her, humming a tune that I remembered my mother playing on our old piano when I was a little boy.

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes opened after spending most of the day closed in sleep. Fascinated, I locked gazes with her in an unblinking regard. One tiny hand flailed around, grabbed my index finger, and held it hard. I marveled at her strength, my little warrior. She reminded me so much of her mother already, tenacious and dedicated. I wondered who she would become, my precious little girl. Maybe she would be a dentist like her mother and me. Maybe she would be a professor. Maybe she would be the prime minister. Maybe she would even be a mother.

But right now, she was just mine, and I held onto her with all my might.

**Away From Me**

"Don't let go, Daddy."

I steadied Hermione, one hand on the back of her bicycle seat and the other hand on the handlebars. She wore her new blue helmet, fitted snugly over her bushy hair that was escaping its ponytail as it always did no matter what her mother tried to do to tame it.

Her mother and I had both thought that six years old was too young to take off the training wheels on her bike, but Hermione had insisted to the point that we gave in. Usually, mothers were the pushover when it came to their children, but with Hermione, it was always me. She was my little daredevil, my little heroine, and for all the books that she dragged home from the library she was just as interested in scaling the trees in our backyard…and in riding a bicycle far too soon.

But one thing was for certain. I wasn't letting go until she was ready. And when she finally was, I was going to have to pry my hands off the bicycle and let her go. But that didn't mean I had to like it. I didn't want to watch her ride away from me.

**Out of My Reach**

"You've got to let go, Daddy. I've got to go through and get on the train."

My wife had already stepped back, but I was still holding on. It was just for another minute, for another second, for one more moment with my daughter. I didn't want to let her get on that train.

A witch! My daughter! Who would have thought? Neither her mother nor I had any magic in our families, at least as far as the kindly Minerva McGonagall had been able to discover. It certainly explained a lot about odd events in Hermione's childhood. I loved my daughter, of course. I loved her unconditionally and would support her in everything, witch or otherwise. That's what daddies were supposed to do. But that didn't mean I had to like this strange, frightening world that was about to take my daughter away from me to a place where I couldn't protect her.

Her mother and I had had everything all mapped out. Hermione would go to our local private day school. We had moved into our neighborhood mostly because it was so close to such an excellent school. Hermione was exceptionally intelligent, and we weren't about to settle for anything less than the best that we could offer her.

Hermione being a witch had not been a part of the plan.

My daughter gave me one final kiss and pulled away from me, leaping lightly to and through the wall. The last we saw of her was her bushy hair escaping from the braid that her mother put it in during our hurried morning preparations. And then I waved to the empty air, blowing kisses as my wife leaned against me. I imagined the train pulling away, taking my daughter out of my reach.

**One Last Time**

"You have to let me go, Daddy. Ron is waiting."

I nodded, not trusting my voice, but I did not let go of her hand, did not place it in that of the red head waiting patiently at the altar in our parish church. If I never let go, maybe I could pretend for just a little while longer that she was mine, just mine, mine to love, to protect, to cherish.

As I understood it, they'd been through the end of the world, or its magical equivalent, together. It had been just the three of them: Hermione, Ron, and the black haired young man, Harry Potter, who stood beside Ron as his best man. I'd heard people call Ronald Weasley brave, even call him a hero. But that didn't mean that he was good enough for my daughter.

There was a gulf between us now, between our daughter and us, and my wife and I had known this would happen eventually. Hermione was magical, and we weren't. There was a huge portion of her life that we would never understand and would never be able to fully participate in, even to her extended life span. It was a life that put her in grave danger and somehow, us as well. We were grateful that Hermione had saved our lives, but the cost was higher than we would have been willing to pay, had she asked first. No wonder she hadn't asked.

The deception stung a bit, but well, she was our daughter. Forgiveness was given with one look into her tear-filled brown eyes and a sobbed apology. But with the sting of the deception came something else far more overwhelming, fear. It wasn't fear of what she had saved us from. It was the fear that came from realizing just what our daughter was capable of and just what we would never be able to do.

But as for me, she was still my daughter, and I would go to my grave trying to protect her anyway.

"Dr. Granger, you need to let her go. It's okay. I promise you that I will never let her go." Ronald's blue eyes met mine, and I saw, for the first time, a man there rather than a boy. I swallowed hard, reached out, and took his outstretched hand. Slowly, I placed it in that of my daughter's, clasping them together. I kissed Hermione's cheek.

"I love you," I whispered into her ear. "Love you too, Daddy," she whispered back to me, just like when she used to share secrets with me when she was a little girl. I found a smile for her somewhere.

And I let my daughter go.

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